The Fifty First Wife
by escritoria
Summary: Tradition said that an emperor of Xing was to have fifty wives, one from each clan of Xing, and that was the number Emperor Ling Yao told everyone he had. But he lied. He had fifty-one. Ling x Lan Fan drabble


**AN: Aren't Ling and Lan Fan the cutest? I love them together but I felt very unsatisfied with their relationship by the end of the anime... And so this drabble was born! This is my first Fullmetal Alchemist story so please review! ^^**

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><p>Tradition older than time and stronger than blood said that an emperor of Xing was to have fifty wives, one from each clan of Xing, and that was the number Emperor Ling Yao told everyone he had.<p>

But he lied. He had fifty-one.

The final was a forbidden lover, his best-kept secret. His first wife, and his favorite. If he could have chosen, he would never have married the others—but tradition was stronger than steel, and even harder to break. Especially for an emperor.

She had steel in her, his first and favorite wife. Both literally and figuratively. To the eyes of the court and all his nation, she was his faithful bodyguard, his shadow, the force between him and those who would end him. There were plenty of opportunities for her to use her skill in defense of his life—Xingese politics were not always as subtle as they made it seem.

The steel in her came from protecting him. In all her years of keeping him safe, she'd grown strong and hard. And yet she'd still lost a limb to her never-ending struggle for his safety.

That was his favorite. Her automail arm. When he retired for the night and she joined him in his room, he loved to hold her artificial fingers to his lips. By then they were always tired of their act, the strictly professional front they had to present to the public, and then they would hold each other and kiss and awaken the star-crossed lovers they put to sleep each morning when the sun rose, and Ling had to be emperor once more and Lan Fan his bodyguard.

He knew she couldn't feel with the false limb, no matter how artful her mechanic was at her craft. But he still loved to hold her steel hand when they were alone, weaving his fingers through the iron ones that replaced the flesh and blood and bone she'd lost. To her, flesh and blood and bone did not measure the worth of his life.

The cool touch, the awkward unnatural strength of her automail against his skin meant she loved him. He loved to feel it. It was a part of her as much as the arm that had once been, before she'd sacrificed it to save him. It was _her_, a testament to a fierce devotion to him beyond duty, beyond honor. Devotion that deep required love, the likes of which Ling had never felt with any of his other wives.

She was sleeping now, his favorite, his devoted, his love. At peace. Ling watched her sleep, unable to make himself follow her into dreams.

He always waited until she was asleep to visit his other wives. He didn't want to hurt her, but he could not ignore the others. The day was theirs, and the night belonged to Lan Fan. But it was not easy to balance fifty wives and a kingdom and leave the nights completely to his fifty-first wife, always first in his heart.

When he embraced the others, he missed the cool touch of her automail, and the hot spark only she could ignite in him. It was not the same. Never the love she'd shown him, a love so desperate that it demanded all.

The nights were full of secrets, and it hid their love from the world. He left the wife he'd visited that night, and returned to the beautiful secret awaiting him in his chambers.

When he reclaimed his place at her side, he wrapped his arms around her and slid her automail hand up to touch his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

Her fingers twitched as she awoke, circuits and wires responding as nerves and muscles should. Her eyes opened sleepily to fall upon him.

His lips descended on her eyelids and cheeks, her nose and forehead, the beautiful silver steel of her hand.

His first. His favorite. His everything.

"I love you, Lan Fan. Go back to sleep now, everything's okay."

She obeyed. Wife or not, she had been his guard long before becoming his lover.

He held her cool steel hand, and it warmed under his touch. As he fell asleep, he could almost believe that it was real once more, with the pulse of a beating heart, a heart that would race when he kissed away the tears and tasted her laughter on her lips and shared every happiness and heartache and sorrow and joy with her.

In sickness and in health. In mourning and rejoicing. She was his, and no matter how many wives he had, he was hers alone.

His secret. Secret, but always first, favorite, only. His fifty-first wife. His Lan Fan.

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><p><strong>AN: Yep. One line of dialogue in the whole thing. How weird am I?<strong>

**Oh and if anyone was wondering, I'm assuming Lan Fan isn't high enough in the nobility to be Ling's wife from the Yao clan. Cuz it's more interesing that way. :P**

**Thanks for reading~**


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